


too restless to unwind

by summerstorm



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: D/s, Incest, M/M, Missing Scene, Obedience, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 20:43:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerstorm/pseuds/summerstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Finding Damon drinking is not surprising. Finding Damon drinking from the oldest bottle of cognac in the cellar is a sign that something's very, very wrong.</i> A missing scene from 2.01 The Return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	too restless to unwind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cyndrarae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyndrarae/gifts).



There's little Stefan finds less surprising than walking into his house to find Damon with a drink in his hand. It would be more surprising to see him not drinking, at this point, and Stefan almost walks by without addressing or acknowledging him: they may have to stick together to keep everyone alive now that Katherine's decided to drop by Mystic Falls, but that doesn't mean Stefan's willing to forgive and forget that easily. Damon still kissed Elena. Damon still broke certain rules.

What catches his attention is the bottle on the end table, label half ripped off but still clearly old, the original letters faded and the colors covered in layers of dark beige. There's dust on one side of the neck, a curved triangle left by the hold of a thumb and forefinger.

Damon drinking is not surprising. Damon drinking from the oldest bottle of cognac in the cellar is a sign that something's very, very wrong.

"Katherine was here," Damon says, in that irritating tone he uses when he's answering what he predicts someone's about to ask him.

"Okay," Stefan says calmly, making his way into the living room. It was inevitable; Stefan knows better than to think he could keep Katherine away from someone she wanted to mess with. Especially someone like Damon.

"Okay?" Damon echoes, a smirk playing on his lips, and Stefan rolls his eyes as he pours himself a glass of cognac. He's not letting Damon drink the whole bottle.

"Yeah," Stefan says, shrugging. "Okay." It's not like he hasn't already said everything else he had to say about Katherine to Damon, and he's good with people, but he's not psychic. He can't have an opinion on the specifics of Katherine being here, because he doesn't know what those specifics _are_. "What did she want?" he caves, when Damon stays silent long enough.

Damon's eyes skirt over Stefan's face, and he makes a disbelieving face as he looks down and takes a large gulp from his glass. "You," he says tartly, putting the glass down and walking around Stefan. Stefan grabs his arm before he's out of reach, and Damon turns to face him. "What?"

"What did she want?"

"I just said— Do you need help gloating, Stef? How unbecoming," Damon says, shaking off Stefan's hand, though he stays where he is.

Stefan takes a deep breath, pressing his lips together, and says, "Where are you going?"

"I don't know yet." A beatific smile blooms over Damon's face. It's one of the scariest things Stefan's ever seen, Damon smiling like that. It doesn't bode well for anyone.

"Is there _something_ you know?" Stefan says. "Did she ask you to do anything? Because you _know_ as well as I do that's a bad idea."

"Don't worry. None of my plans intersect with Katherine's." As an afterthought, he amends, "Not to my knowledge, anyhow."

"Damon," Stefan says.

"Stefan," Damon sing-songs. "I'm really not planning anything," he adds in a normal tone. Stefan can believe it, but it's not reassuring at all — Damon may not be _planning_ anything, but that doesn't mean he doesn't intend to do something stupid anyway. In fact, sometimes the things Damon does in the spur of the moment are significantly worse than anything he could come up with coldly. Damon shrugs, picking up his glass and pouring himself another drink. "I thought I'd swing by your little girlfriend's house," he says, "see how she's doing."

"We're all in enough trouble as it is," Stefan points out.

"Don't you think you're overreacting? I'm not planning trouble," Damon says, cocking his head, "unless your girlfriend's into that," and Stefan wants to punch him.

But he's not going to. That's what Katherine wants. "Don't go see Elena," Stefan says. He has reasons. He doesn't think any of them would work on Damon, but he has good reasons, so he doesn't feel as stupid saying that as he should. Elena can handle Damon, but Stefan can't handle the idea of putting her in harm's way, however indirectly. Letting Damon just go visit her when he's like this wouldn't even be indirectly his fault. It would be his fault, period.

"You can't actually control where I do or don't go," Damon says, eyes wide on Stefan like this is something Stefan should have learned in kindergarten and not need to be reminded of. Stefan wishes keeping an eye on Damon was optional.

Damon walks off towards the door again. Instead of holding him back, Stefan just runs around him, gets in the way of the door. "Stop it."

"Why," Damon says flatly, like he's humoring him.

"I don't want anyone to get hurt," Stefan says. "I already have to worry about Katherine. Don't make me worry about you too." Maybe it's the wrong phrasing — maybe Stefan should have asked not to be made to worry about Damon _doing something stupid_ , instead of implying Damon's not one of the people he's already trying to keep safe.

Damon latches onto that before Stefan has a chance to rephrase. "I can see how much you _worry_ about Katherine," Damon says, smiling in a way that looks more like a grimace. "I'm sure she'd be thrilled to hear you worry about her." There's a jealousy underneath the words that makes Stefan want to hit something — Damon shouldn't get like this about _Katherine_. He can't blame Stefan for whatever sick games Katherine's playing.

"You can't let Katherine get to you," Stefan says. "I don't care what she's telling you: she never loved either one of us. Not you, and certainly not me."

"I guess that is what you have to say," Damon says dismissively. "Come on, go ahead. Jump in your flashy Porsche and drive off into the sunset with your twin lady jackpot that you worry about so much. You know you want to."

It takes Stefan a second to get it, because it's not something Damon often lets shine through. Or ever, at all. The last time Stefan caught a glimpse of this was — very long ago. Over two decades. The rare moments Damon acts like Stefan's more than just this person Damon's been saddled with knowing for the rest of eternity. The rare moments Damon acts like he cares.

Stefan thinks he should appreciate them more, but they make him feel like shit every time. "I'm not leaving you."

"Of course you're not leaving me," Damon says, matter-of-fact. "As long as I stay in Mystic Falls, leaving would involve leaving Elena. I know you're not going anywhere."

"You've _tortured_ me," Stefan says. Sometimes Damon needs to be reminded of that. It's not like Stefan decided to cut all ties with him. Damon did. "For years and years, every time you showed up, people I loved got hurt. People I loved got killed, and turned, and—"

"Are we going to list off all my accomplishments? Because we could be here all night." Damon makes an intrigued noise. "Is that what you're trying to do? Distract me from evil?"

It's funny the way Damon condemns things he's doing himself as he speaks. It's also a terrible idea to point them out, so Stefan sticks with his point, looking Damon in the eye. "I'm not giving up on you."

Damon raises his eyebrows. "How touching. However, since I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Since you came here," Stefan goes on, "you've been been — different. You've been better. I'm not letting you take a step back."

"Pity it's not your choice what way I walk, then," Damon says, turning around, and Stefan grabs him again.

"What did Katherine tell you?" he repeats. There's got to be something in the answer to that question that will shed some light on this.

"Nothing of your concern," Damon says, but then changes his mind. "Actually, everything of your concern, but she's probably told you all of it already. You don't need me rehashing her quivering adoration for—"

It's not a conscious decision, pushing Damon across the living room. If it were a conscious decision, Stefan wouldn't have done it, but he does anyway, responding to an instinctive surge of anger and frustration that Damon won't goddamn _listen_.

Damon retaliates by running back to Stefan and barging him right into a wall, stretching a hand over Stefan's neck. "Not as over her as you thought, are you?"

Stefan grabs Damon's hand and drags it off just enough to choke out, "Let go of me, Damon," clearly, firmly, in a tone he doesn't normally use, in a tone he hasn't really used on Damon since — since the last time Damon was messed up enough to let Stefan use it on him. It's an act of faith, this time; Damon probably doesn't want this, he's probably too proud to take it, too proud to let history repeat itself, to let Katherine be a catalyst for something other than pain and hatred.

Damon gives him an inch of freedom, though, and Stefan continues with it, pushing him off again. Damon lands on his ass by the couch, and Stefan follows him before he has a chance to react, pulling him up by the collar and turning him around until his back's pressed to Stefan's chest. He holds him like that, with an arm across his neck.

"Do you want to play games? I can play games all day," Stefan says, voice low and sibilant. For a split second, he swears he can feel Damon _shudder_ , and it's not a bad shudder — at least it's not bad for Damon.

"Can you?" Damon grits out. "Elena doesn't strike me as the sharing type." It has bite — Damon never gives in without getting a few quips in first, without pretending he's not going to — but there's something hopeful about the way he says it, too, like — like maybe if Elena's willing to share Stefan, Stefan might share Elena, too.

It's also a clear answer to the question Stefan's not asking: _are we doing this?_ It's been a long time since they last did this, but Stefan knows they both have the same _this_ in mind.

"I cleared it with her," Stefan says.

"Just for this occasion?"

Stefan laughs briefly. "A while ago," he says. "Months, if you want to know."

There's a stretch of silence. Damon's probably gauging whether Stefan's lying, which is ridiculous, because Stefan wouldn't lie about this. Elena knows. Elena knows because Stefan needed her to know, if they were going to be together. She knows he didn't always do the right thing, she knows he wasn't always conscientious of human lives, she knows more than a few less world-altering but all the same awful stories about Stefan's past, and she knows this.

(He told her one night, without planning to. He doesn't remember how he phrased it, but he told her his relationship with Damon had run the gamut over the years, and it wasn't only from enmity to brotherhood. They'd slept together, a few times. It had never been a thing, but it was kind of a scattered pattern, something that started with Katherine leaving and happened sometimes every number of years, usually when Damon was in a bad emotional place, or Stefan was worried Damon would hurt someone or himself.

It didn't always work, but Stefan didn't regret it. He thought Elena should know that much, and Elena listened, and when she finally said something, it wasn't, _That's repulsive_ , or _I can't believe you ever did that, that changes everything_. She just said, "He didn't _force_ you into it, did he?"

"No," Stefan said. "No, he didn't force me into anything. I take full responsibility for my actions."

"That's not what I mean," Elena said. Her smile was a little forced, a little wary, but she was _trying_. Stefan had thought she'd just throw him out, at least while she thought over the idea of being with someone who'd had sex with his _brother_. "I just don't like the idea of you getting hurt," she said.

Stefan doesn't know how she managed to wrap her head around it, or if she ever did, but it was a weight off his chest he hadn't realized he'd been carrying.)

"How preemptive of you," says Damon.

"Elena and I talk. It's a concept you may have heard of."

"I've _heard_ of it."

"She's not as simple as you want to paint her," Stefan adds, because it's Elena, and he can't not. Then, he turns Damon around and non-sequiturs into, "Take off my pants," using a hand to grab Damon's hair and push him down to his knees.

Damon struggles, but he doesn't use anything near his full force. For him, it's like going down without a fight. For him, it's a level of near _neediness_ Stefan can't remember seeing him reach before, and maybe that's it — maybe that's what Katherine did, even if Stefan still can't figure out why she needs Damon to think he's completely alone.

Then again, it's Katherine. She's not big on reasons.

Damon works Stefan's belt out of the loops and looks up, his mouth a thin, angry line, his eyes heavy-lidded, as he undoes the fly and yanks Stefan's pants off.

"Put your hands behind your back," Stefan says, and Damon's eyes close as he does. "Eyes open. Look at my face," Stefan warns, and Damon's glance snaps up. Stefan kicks off his pants and lowers the waistband of his boxers down over his hipbones, until there's dark hair visible over the elastic. He was half hard before, from the adrenaline of fighting and from just _knowing_ it was going to come to this, but his cock fills up in seconds flat now, his attention focused on the way Damon's eyes flicker down for almost imperceptible instants.

Stefan continues to hold Damon's gaze, watching him not watch Stefan get hard even though he so clearly wants to — even though under any other circumstances he'd come out with some insulting, witty quip, or would touch before Stefan gave him the green light.

Altruism aside, this is why Stefan does this, this is what Stefan likes about this the most: seeing Damon turn pliant, getting a glimpse of the old Damon, the Damon Stefan won't ever not feel guilty about losing.

He likes that, but it doesn't, to put it bluntly, get him off.

"Pull it the rest of the way down," Stefan says, thumb holding and pointing at his underwear, and it's that that does it: the responsibility of being in charge of not only Damon but himself, the sheer concept of putting himself out there without repercussions.

As much as he has to tailor these few and far-between moments to Damon, he also has to tailor them to himself, and it's freeing, being with someone who can't hold anything new over his head, and who will never bring any of this up again. Nothing that happened after he stopped trying to struggle out of Stefan's grip.

"Make sure it doesn't rip. Do it like I'm human." He considers it and amends, "Actually, do it like _you're_ human."

Damon may be keeping his mouth shut, but Stefan can tell what's going through his head — can imagine everything Damon would say if this wasn't a game, if keeping quiet wasn't a part of it. He can hear it all, all the possibilities: the smug, 'But it's so much better that I'm not,' the sarcastic, 'Do I detect hints of vampire complex in your tone? Self-loathing is such an ugly quality,' the pointed, 'Is that how you do things with Elena?'

But Damon doesn't say any of it; instead, he opens his mouth and grasps the waistband with his teeth. His nose brushes against Stefan's hipbone as Damon tugs down his underwear, which Stefan can allow, but then it brushes against his dick, and Stefan yanks Damon's head back, saying, "Didn't say you could touch me."

The look Damon turns back is anger, condensed anger with its clear focal point being Stefan, but Stefan can see it dissipate off his face in waves as Damon rips Stefan's boxers off.

"That wasn't very human," Stefan says in a warning tone.

Damon looks up with a smug grimace, and this time he talks back. "I've fucked enough people who'll tell you it is."

The laugh that comes out of Stefan's throat is more of a threat than an amused sound. If it's going overboard — and it does sound stupid to Stefan's ears — Damon doesn't say it, and Stefan doesn't ask. It makes it easier for Stefan to slide into the kind of authority Damon wants him to use.

He holds Damon's face with one hand and wraps the other around his own cock, bringing it to Damon's mouth until the tip touches Damon's bottom lip. "Kiss it," he says, softly but leaving no room for refusal.

Damon holds his gaze through that, too, as his tongue slips out over the head of Stefan's cock and his lips follow, drawing Stefan's cock in.

It's still weird, for Stefan. It's weird because it's his brother, but it's not only that. It's weird because Stefan doesn't have a lot of experience playing this — this _role_ , being in control of someone. It's weird because it's not a headspace he's used to, this place where he's supposed to _know_ things and act on them without talking them out first, without making sure. He's an empathic person, he can intuit, but this is intruding.

It's what Damon wants. It's what Damon _needs_ , having all his locks ignored and no reason to run away.

Sometimes Stefan thinks he's the only person Damon trusts enough to be that someone for him, to do this to him — the only person he trusts and respects enough to give into, and maybe Damon has good reason to. Damon loses sight of things sometimes — a lot of times — and Stefan can _tell_ when he does. He can tell when the pressure, the guilt, the insecurity Damon keeps bottled up gurgles up, and he can tell when Damon needs grounding.

It doesn't mean Stefan's not still surprised to realize how well this works for Damon every time, because he is. Damon _grounds_ himself like this, swallowing around more of Stefan's cock than he should be able to take and going with it when Stefan pulls his head back before he's even gotten a chance to really suck him off. Damon's lips open up under the pressure, slipping off him until the head of Stefan's dick is only barely dipping into Damon's mouth.

"Good." Stefan pulls Damon up to his feet with a yank at his hair. "You want someone to jerk around," Stefan says, a conditional tilt to his voice that's only there for show, for the prickling aspect, "it doesn't have to be Katherine." He bites Damon's lip and laps at the swell, not much of a kiss at all, and Damon grasps at Stefan's shirt as Stefan's mouth makes its way down his jaw, his neck, licking and biting and biting hard enough to draw blood, a time or two.

Damon only lets go when Stefan pushes his arms off, ripping out the buttons on the bottom half of Damon's shirt and popping the one on his pants before sticking his hand down them.

His other hand goes to Damon's neck, and Stefan runs him into a wall like that, Damon's head knocking against the hard surface. Damon's eyes shut down as Stefan fingers wrap around his dick, squeezing hard once before giving it a soothing stroke as he says, "Look at me."

It's not the authoritative tone — it's the tone Stefan allows himself to use when Damon's receptive enough to give in without a show of force, when it stops being about Damon letting things happen and it becomes an issue of urging him to _lean in_ to them.

(The first time this happened, they'd just realized Katherine was gone, and it was Stefan who started the fight, Stefan who pushed Damon harder than he thought he could, knocking him onto the floor. When he'd seen Damon there, he hadn't stopped; he'd just pinned Damon down and held him down with his thighs so he could punch him again, and Damon had been hard, and — for some reason they'd gone with it, and it had calmed Damon down, at least for a while.)

Damon clutches Stefan's shoulders now, as Stefan picks up a rhythm, jerking him off in earnest. It's not cruel or overly hard — Stefan takes it slow, watching the tightness in Damon's face unravel and disappear. There's still a closed-off blankness on it, but it's not anxious; it skirts around his usual smugness, leaving in just the look of detachment Damon needs to keep up at all times. Even that shifts, at times, into Damon's mouth opening unconsciously, into gasps and deep moans as Damon's hips jerk and he fucks Stefan's fist.

Damon's whole body goes a little crazy when he comes; it's one of those things that Stefan feels Damon wouldn't let himself do with anybody else. With anybody else, Damon wouldn't stop thinking about his own weight and depend on someone else to keep him upright. Stefan lets go of Damon's neck for it to provide that.

The second he lets go of Damon himself, Damon slips to his knees on the floor, lips dragging dry along Stefan's stomach before he takes Stefan's cock in his mouth again, without orders or prompting or encouragement.

Stefan breathes and runs his fingers over Damon's scalp, massaging instead of holding on. Damon's hands are on his thighs, thumbs absently tracing the muscles there, and his mouth slides easy over Stefan's cock, encouraging Stefan to roll his hips into it, to take what Damon's giving him without aggression or flourish. It's easy to shift into that mindset when Damon's making these noises like he's been waiting to do this, like Stefan allowing him to do this is something worth _earning_ , somehow.

Damon stays on his knees even after he's swallowed every drop of Stefan's come, even after Stefan lets go of his head and rests his palm on the wall, closing his eyes, regrouping.

It's not until Stefan looks at Damon again that Damon rises to his feet, does up his pants. Their eyes meet for a moment there, Stefan trying to gather the willpower to get dressed again, Damon just holding his gaze like he's expecting something. Stefan can't tell what that something is.

"I guess Elena _can_ share," Damon says, and Stefan heads up to his room to find clothes just to keep from punching him. He's there when he hears Damon talk to him through the empty house, a, "Can you?" that Stefan doesn't know how to interpret.

When Stefan gets back downstairs, Damon's at the front door, fixing his hair.

"I meant it," Stefan says. He's grasping at straws; this may have helped before, showing Damon Stefan's there for him may have helped before, but it hasn't always. "It doesn't have to be Katherine."

Damon nods at him, and the smirk he puts on is softer than usual, contemplative. It doesn't look like he might do something stupid. It looks like he's just considering his options — realizing he has them, that it's not just Katherine for him.

Stefan should, in retrospect, imagine Damon's thinking about her in some capacity, but it's not a variable he's ever had to consider before, there being someone else in Stefan's life, in the equation, so it doesn't cross his mind that it might be on Damon's.

It doesn't cross his mind that Damon is on his way to Elena's.


End file.
